The Web of Life and Death
by dancingdragon3
Summary: Before the episode "Collisions", in the 5YG future, Hiro stares at the web of twine in Isaac's loft, and thinks about Ando, life, death, and destiny. First part in a series of drabbles set in the 5YG universe.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Web of Life and Death

Characters: Hiro in Five Years Gone Universe, mentions of other characters.

Length: ~900 words

Rating/Genre: PG for angst, friendship

Summary: Episodes _Collision_ and _Hiros;_ in the future, just before Hiro teleports back to Peter on the subway, he stands and stares at the web of twine in Isaac's loft and thinks about Ando, destiny, life, and death.

Disclaimer: Heroes is the property of NBC

Notes: Written for the writers_choice challenge # 408: "Web" on LJ.

Beta by jaimie prufrock.

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><p>Hiro looked down on the endless maze of string hung across the lower level of the room as he had many times before. He had been working here in Isaac Mendez' loft for so long now that it felt like he had been here his entire life. Hiro's memory was nothing but Ando's death, and his own life - a tired, tireless existence, uselessly trying to fit together pieces from a shattered past and tie them up with a bow.<p>

He breathed in and out, deep and soundlessly, feet planted firmly on the concrete. He let his arms hang limply at his sides. The sword strap secure across his shoulders was constricting, the katana feeling heavier than it should. Hiro adjusted it absently, letting his mind drift for a brief second back to how he had made it his, then he blinked against the plastic lenses in his eyes. He paid the watery, stinging discomfort no mind, as with every time his eyes betrayed his sorrow during the daylight hours. In the light, out on the street, with a fight around every corner there was no room for emotion, no room for distraction, like now - with the meters of string becoming swirls of color swimming in front of him before focusing back into graceful lines and arcs.

Distractions, he could not afford. But here in the relative safety of his lair, the hero's mind often wandered. There were times when he became lost in the miasma of colored yarn, timelines from so many lives connecting, by-passing...chance and fate all woven together in a tapestry. If only he could get far away or close enough to see it. But all his attempts had ended in bitter failure; every well laid plan to save Ando met with agonizing defeat. And with each passing day, Hiro's lifelong friend's face faded more and more from his mind, as though washed away with the tears he shed into his pillow every sleepless night.

The Bushido master knew what he had to do now. There was another place and time he could intercede. He hoped that by being selfless, by thinking about helping someone other than himself, he might finally find a way to stop all this. He might find a way to accept that Ando could never be saved, but that other people still could be, like the cheerleader.

The pain on Peter's face when he found out who that girl really was, the wanton destruction of someone so young, so innocent...yes, this was the right course of action. He would try young Peter Petrelli. A long shot, but the scarred, bitter man always said that he had been a naive "hero wannabe" when he was younger. Now he would get the opportunity, and maybe meet his long lost niece. It was a chance for new families to form. The Petrelli's were not the best of mankind, but Peter was better than most, and they were the girl's flesh and blood. Perhaps this was the missing piece that was needed for an entirely different puzzle to be made whole. Different people getting the chance to step up and be heroes. Perhaps even a younger Dr. Suresh could be saved from himself because of this change.

_Anything is possible...well, almost anything_, Hiro thought to himself, eyebrows drawing down in frustration, lips pressed together and his hands clenching into fists.

When he felt like this it usually meant that it was time to go to the roof for an ever quickening dance with his blade to both feed and relieve these dark feelings, but now, instead, Hiro finally and surprisingly easily, swallowed his pride along with his anger and conceded that he did not have to be at the center of this puzzle or its solution to solve it. He was not going to be the winner here. Gradually, he relaxed his fists. His pale, drawn expression closed off like a dam holding back the river of his grief and self-recrimination as the lonely warrior allowed himself to finally accept that it was his destiny to fail his fallen partner. Ando's thread was cut for good, and would never be restored to the maze with the others' laid out before the friend left behind.

From this distance, looking down at the string covered room time and time again, one thing had become apparent to Hiro - that the individual lines of each person, of their small lives, formed a web when interwoven within the context of each other, and of life. Touch one part and the whole felt it, each change causing ripples of reaction in every direction. Whether that could be used for good, or evil, or simply power, he wasn't sure yet, but Hiro still had hope that it was not too late for the result to be something honorable. Something that the world could live with, that would allow the world to live. Because that was what it came down to in the end. If he succeeded or if he failed - it meant life or death for them all.

With one last look at the web of twine, Hiro closed his eyes and effortlessly willed himself back through the tunnel of time - to a subway and two young men that he hoped held the key he had been looking for, before their web was destroyed in the crucible of destiny and the world's along with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Festering Wounds

Length: 400 words

Rating/Genre: PG, gen

Characters: FYG Peter

Summary: In his self-imposed isolation, Peter's nights are long and boring. Part two in a series of drabbles set in the 5YG verse.

Notes: written for the heroes_contest drabble challenge #29: "Renegade".

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><p>"And in the war on terror, Mark Shivale has the latest news. Mark, what can you tell us about the this recent attack by the terrorist leader Hiro Nakamura and his band of renegades?"<p>

After a moment's hesitation, Peter turned the channel. It was late at night and he was lounging on the sofa. His thumb stroked over the up and down arrow keys as he watched a commercial.

/Terrorist - a person who terrorizes or frightens others./

Peter's thumb continued stroking up and down. Up and down, feeling the tiny rubber buttons, firm and textured against his skin. He pressed.

"This is what Nakamura looks like with short hair and glasses. He is known to reside in the New York area, so if anyone..." Peter turned down the volume, put the remote down and got up, taking his drink with him.

/Renegade - A person who deserts and betrays an organization, country, or set of principles./

Needing answers, he had looked the words up once. In his boredom, Peter had turned to books and the internet. Months of confinement turned to years as he settled into a prison lifestyle of exercise, television, and reading. His self-imposed exile, the only penance he could give.

He walked past his bookcase on his way to the bedroom. This was all his life was now. He didn't deserve any better.

/Guilt - The fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime./

Habit made him look in on Niki, her blonde hair spilling across the satin pillows, one leg peaking out from beneath the sheet. Nothing inside him stirred at the sight of bared flesh. And he was glad as ever that her pill would keep her out till noon.

Peter hardly ever slept anymore. A few hours around dawn, maybe. Hot and uncomfortable in a bed that was too soft with a woman who, after all this time, still didn't smell like home. But that was good. He didn't want a home.

He poured himself another bitter drink and then wandered back to the sofa. Hiro and his younger self's image were gone now, so Peter let the memories sweep in, harsh and unrestrained.

Memories were funny things. Sometimes, in the darkest part of night, if Peter drank enough, he could remember intoxication. If only he couldn't heal.

_*Damn Texas.*_

Peter knew how better everything would be if he had never healed.


End file.
